I opened the New Yorker the other day and they had an article about someone I know! Philosophy professor Laurie Paul, who apparently is most famous for her 2014 book, Transformative Experience, which is an expansion of this article which we discussed back in 2013 here on the blog!
Given that Laurie Paul’s argument remains of interest to people, I thought I’d share my reactions again.
My post was entitled, “Yes, the decision to try (or not) to have a child can be made rationally,” and my views on the topic have not changed in the past dozen years.
The starting point was this summary written by Paul along with Kieran Healy:
Choosing to have a child involves a leap of faith, not a carefully calibrated rational choice. When surprising results surface about the dissatisfaction many parents experience, telling yourself that you knew it wouldn’t be that way for you is simply a rationalization. The same is true if you tell yourself you know you’re happier not being a parent. The standard story of parenthood says it’s a deeply fulfilling event that is like nothing else you’ve ever experienced, and that you should carefully weigh what it will be like before choosing to do it. But in reality you can’t have it both ways.
And here was my reply:
I disagree that you can’t have it both ways, for three reasons:
1. Many potential parents do have an idea of what it will be like to be a parent, having participated in child care as an older sibling, aunt, or uncle.
2. The decision of whether to have a child occurs many times: the decision of whether to have a second child, a third child, etc. All these decisions after the first child are directly informed.
3. Finally, and with most direct relevance to Paul and Healy, even though you can’t know how it will feel after you have the baby, you can generalize from others’ experiences. People are similar to each other in many ways, and you can learn a lot about future outcomes by observing older people (or by reading research such as that popularized by Kahneman, regarding predicted vs. actual future happiness). Thus, I think it’s perfectly rational to aim to have (or not have) a child, with the decision a more-or-less rational calculation based on extrapolation from the experiences of older people, similar to oneself, who’ve faced the same decision earlier in their lives.
I continued:
I’m sensitive to this particular issue because I see Paul and Healy’s article [I guess I should say “Paul’s article”; my direct response was to a blog post written jointly by Paul and Healy, but the original article, and the book, is by Paul alone] as taking what might be considered a generally “humanistic” position that there are limits to the value of rational calculation. But to me, as a statistician, there’s nothing particularly humanistic about disparaging rationality. Rational thinking is, to me, a key part of what makes us human.
To put it another way, it used to be that humans were defined as the rational animal. Nowadays it almost seems the opposite, that we are defined as irrational computers. When the baseline is dogs, cats, monkeys, etc., we indeed look rational (even after accounting for the fact that animals behave rationally in many situations). We don’t (always) act on instinct, we make plans, etc. When we are compared to computers, the story is very different, of course. But we’re not computers, we’re animals, so I think our (imperfect) rational thought and behavior is nothing to shy away from. Indeed, even Paul and Healy, when denying that we can be rational in setting childbirth aims, do acknowledge that people are following thought process that have the form of rational reasoning, they’re just claiming that the inputs to this reasoning are empty of real content.
Also, I wrote “try” or “aim” to have a child rather than “decide,” because many people who want children, can’t have them, and many other people who don’t want children end up with them anyway. So you can’t quite “choose to have a child.” In statistics jargon, this is all an intent-to-treat analysis.
Responses by L. A. Paul and Paul Bloom
We had some good discussion in the comments to the above-linked post, including by Paul herself, so please read through—don’t just take my reactions as the last word!
Then in 2015 when Paul’s book came out, we had another blog discussion, also including the psychologist Paul Bloom. Lots of disagreement. You can make of all this what you will.
I can’t tell if the following facts are critical or irrelevant to the discussion: Paul and Healy are wife/husband and have children.
They made an irrational decision to have children and are generalizing from their experience to others. ;)
Divorced, I think.
Maybe they irrationally made a decision to have a child and then generalized that to everyone to say that having a child is not a rational decision. ;)
Double post, sorry.
So, how should we distinguish rationalizing from being rational? I think people are pretty good at the former.
Quote from the blog post: “We don’t (always) act on instinct, we make plans, etc. When we are compared to computers, the story is very different, of course. But we’re not computers, we’re animals, so I think our (imperfect) rational thought and behavior is nothing to shy away from.”
When reading this, and the blog post, I was reminded of an interview with Bruce Lee where he states that “the ideal is unnaturel naturalness or natural unnaturalness” in light of talking about natural instinct and control.
In light of the blog post I was thinking about how deciding to want to have children might in large part be a natural drive or instinct and nothing more. However, perhaps a human is something more or even different than an animal, or at least capable of something more than “merely” following a natural drive or instinct. In that light, I was reminded of the Bruce Lee quote.
Perhaps the, or another, part of being a human being makes it possible to decide to have a child, but in a different manner than the instinctual and natural drive decision. Perhaps one can decide to try and have a child while one already has this child. Perhaps this other, or possibly additional, decision has to do with getting to know your child when they are grown up, or trying to see and found out what makes them tick or flourish as if they were a stranger. In this way, it’s like “choosing” to try and have a child again, but in a different manner. One that may be further from the initial, instinctual source or basis.
Perhaps something similar can be found in falling, and being in love. At first, it might be more about the instinctual and biological stuff, but later on it can become something else or something more. In that sense it’s like falling in love for a second time, perhaps in a different manner, or perhaps with a better view of all things relevant.
Perhaps falling in love with the same person for a second time, in a different manner, or with a better view of all things relevant, and deciding to want to try and have the same child for a second time, but in a different manner, or with a better view of all things relevant is something only a human can do: perhaps it’s like unnatural naturalness or natural unnaturalness in a way…
Quote from the blog post: “Rational thinking is, to me, a key part of what makes us human.”
I think I made the decision to stop trying so hard rationally
Trying hard seemed to have gotten me nowhere, perhaps ironically
Anyway, I think I did it not because I liked that particular view intrinsically or specifically
But because at one point in time it seemed to me to be more of a necessity
When I look back at the time between then and now
I don’t really know whether it was an act of desperation or more of a vow
But perhaps it is not important anymore to reason why, what, and how
For that involves the exact, or similar, processes I decided I might better not allow
So now I’m running this go-with-the-flow experiment
To see whether it can get me out of my predicament
To see if one day it will help solve my bewilderment
To see if I notice and experience that which is magnificent
Wow, makes me wish for more poem comments …
Thank you for this comment, it is very much appreciated!
I throw in some poetry from time to time on here. Perhaps it’s fitting in a way because I think I learned I like playing with words and sentences and structure from engaging in scientific writing and participating and reading this blog.
Some of the things I posted in this light on this blog:
I wrote down one of the best things I have written concerning song lyrics or poetry in my view titled “Because Of What You Told Me” in the comment section below the “20 years of blogging…What have been your favorite posts?” (blog post dated sept. 17, 2024).
I also wrote a comment that included something else I still think is cool titled “Two Birds” below your blog post titled “What genre is AI-generated poetry?) (blog post nov. 22, 2024)
The really on-topic stuff is very enjoyable for me, because it feels like solving a puzzle in a limited time. That also comes with making mistakes, or writing things down sub-optimally. I wrote something like this in the comment section below “Clybourne Park. And a Jamaican beef patty. (But no Gray Davis, no Grover Norquist, no rabbi.)” (blog post dated oct. 3, 2024) starting with “All pizza and no play”.
Anyway, I am hoping that a musician I like wants to assess some lyrics I wrote to in turn maybe possibly make a great song with. But that seems hard to do. I recently sent lyrics to “I Never Know” to a musician I came across called Joe Nolan. I thought the music and/or video of one of his songs titled “I Don’t Have To See You Anymore” is really good and interesting. Those lyrics I sent to this musician would possibly be appropriate to share here given the topic of my first poem and your reply, but I am hesitant to do so because what if the musician sends me a reply and wants to do something with the lyrics and I just posted them here…
Anyway, I’ve tried many things concerning my lyrics or poetry but it doesn’t seem to work out. I even recently thought about writing something about artificial intelligence or computers writing lyrics just to get my lyrics posted somewhere because I have a pre-print server account concerning scientific writing and I could easily post it there if I sort of made it seem like a scientific writing piece. I know nothing about computers, and artificial intelligence though. But you do if I am not mistaken.
I had the idea to write something with the title “Can Your Artificial Intelligence Do This?” and write about human song lyrics or poetry that are written in such a way that artificial intelligence is not able to do (yet?). But I don’t know what artificial intelligence is capable of, and what not. I started by thinking about a heading for the manuscript that incorporated and featured a set of lyrics or poem I wrote and see what the specific feature of it was that artificial intelligence can not do (yet?). This is what I came up with, the first heading or feature mentions the poem “Because Of What You Told Me” referred to above, and there is also a heading that involves the “Two Birds” poem mentioned above as well:
-Use words with different meanings that fit the different interpretations of the lyrics (“Because Of What You Told Me”)
-Use the same words that convey or evoke different sentiments, feelings, or emotions (“I Know”)
-Use different words or phrases to depict the same specific sentiment, feeling, or emotion (“I Never Know”)
-Use words and sentences that seem strange and/or not suitable at first but may not be as a result of an interpretation by human intelligence (“Two Birds”)
-Produce a coherent story that evokes a certain sentiment, feeling, or emotion (“This Is What My Dad Said”)
I also recently wrote a little book with 10 very short chapters about the lyrics and poetry I have written, and about all the stuff I tried to get someone to assess or use what I wrote (to no avail). This short writing also includes me mentioning I wrote some of it down on a social science and statistics blog (which is this blog here) so I could send it to an independent record company that has some musician I like a lot. I send it a few weeks ago if I am not mistaken, but received no reply.
I Never Know
I never know whether I am behind or ahead
I never know whether I should feel happy or sad
Maybe there was something I should have said
I wonder if I am the one who might be mad
I never know whether I am blind or can acutely see
I never know whether it should be you or me
Maybe the apple did fall far from the tree
I wonder if I am the one who holds the key
But every once in a while,
when I look into your eyes
These things I wonder about,
these thoughts, and doubts
They just don’t seem to matter,
and don’t shout so loud
They do not become clear,
but sort of fade out
They simply stop to appear,
and stop to sprout
I never know whether I should stay or go
I never know whether I should ride a wave or go with the flow
Maybe it was something that helped me grow
I wonder if I am the one who should take it slow
I never know whether I should open or close the door
I never know whether I should stay grounded or soar
Maybe it was something worth fighting for
I wonder if I am the one who should do more
But every once in a while,
when I look into your eyes
These things I wonder about,
these thoughts, and doubts
They just don’t seem to matter,
and don’t shout so loud
They do not become clear,
but sort of fade out
They simply stop to appear,
and stop to sprout
I never know whether I should keep or break the mold
I never know whether I should go all in or fold
Maybe I should have done as I was told
I wonder if I am the one who should hold
I never know whether to step out of line or wait my turn
I never know whether to take it easy or be stern
Maybe I did crash and burn
I wonder if I am the one who should learn
But every once in a while,
when I look into your eyes
These things I wonder about,
these thoughts, and doubts
They just don’t seem to matter,
and don’t shout so loud
They do not become clear,
but sort of fade out
They simply stop to appear,
and stop to sprout
It’s like everything is on hold,
for a brief moment in time
It’s like everything is told,
in the blink of an eye
Although I don’t fully understand,
perhaps it’s clear and true
All I have to know,
and all I have to do,
is to sometimes look into your eyes
and just be there with you